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Let’s get ready for an overdue passive aggressive rant about everything that has happened to me since April of this year!!!! Are these exclamation marks making you uncomfortable??!!!! Good!!!! because that’s the purpose!!

So in April I completely declared a family member dead. At least to me. Am I a bad person for this? Yes of course but you know what that dude isn’t a saint, either. So April was a stressful time for me.

Then came May. For the fourth May of my life I was out giving interviews and exams to get into colleges. I was a twenty year old, who had given up 2 years of law school. This time I went only to the places where I had a chance. Everyone was younger than me and it made me feel quite old. That waiting period between giving an interview and hearing about the result is the worst. I was the most suicidal I had ever been in my life. But something moderately good happened. Then it fucking came to fucking light that my parents are the most dysfunctional couple to ever exist in the history of creation. Long story short, one third of the college fund that I had earned for myself was gone. I could no longer afford to live outside on my own. And I would rather have maggots eating my eyeballs than ask for money from someone else. After dealing with that shit, I took a mini vacation to Assam. Big mistake for a very small reason. I had an allergic reaction to the water and to this date I have the remains of rashes all over my body. With my life it’s always one step forward and fucking three steps back.

Then In June my mother broke her collarbone. As shitty as it sounds, it didn’t make a big difference because she went back to live with her mother. Yes, as in separation. That was for the best, if you ask me. I’m an adult and my brother is in boarding school, so she didn’t have a lot keeping her here. Not a problem. This separation was long overdue, so it’s fine. She did ask me to come with her but the only way I’m leaving this house is if I’m dead. I’m Alan, bitch. You can’t get rid of me. I also very reluctantly cut my hair short. I had to do it because it was damaged and you could no longer tell if it was black or blue or copper from the ends. It was one ugly mixture of all three so I chopped them off. Also around 27th, I got my period after almost a year. And it was horrific and my uterus felt like the battleground for the Battle of Bastards. This period lasted ten days.

Then in July Diksha moved back. She also left three years of architecture and finally came back home. I think it helped her to have me right there with her, having given up law. It was bittersweet not having an excuse to go to Bhopal every other weekend and partying the shit out of my mind. Not to mention her super hot friends. But I guess her mental health gets an upper seat on the priority shelf than my stupid libido. Then I went to my OB/GYN to harass her until she figured out what the actual fuck was going on with my fucking ovaries. She told me after a really expensive series of tests that both my ovaries were lazy. Apparently that’s a legit medical terminology: Lazy ovaries. I guess it would make sense because every fiber of my being is lazy, so my ovaries would be lazy, too. But what the fuck, man? They sure seem over-active to me? How does this work? If anyone was to have such a stupid condition, it would of course be me.

Around August I started to lose my mind a little. I was hitting on anything that moves for absolutely no reason at all. I wasn’t even interested in guys who were giving me their phone numbers or socials or whatever. Lol there was this one time when I almost started to talk to 36 year old but thanks to social media I found what his age was and didn’t end up a case on TV. And how can I leave out my breakdown of Independence Day. It was a normal day. I ordered pizza, ate the entire thing by myself and watched Supernatural season 10. Then there’s this particular episode where Dean slaughters an entire room full of people and Sam finds him helpless on the floor of the room. (Backstory: Dean has the Mark of Cain and a very strong urge to kill. He killed a room full of pedophiles. DON’T JUDGE MY DEAN OK?!) I started to fucking scream. No words no profanities just five hours of my voice going AAAAARRRGGGGHHHHH. Don’t know why it happened, don’t know how it stopped. Hasn’t happened since so I guess it doesn’t matter.

In September I was bedridden for about a month. It was very funny, actually. So like an absolute idiot that I am, I somehow managed to drop a ceramic plate on my foot and split it open. My house, from the kitchen to the living room was covered in blood. No one was home and my phone was upstairs so I just shouted until my sister heard me outside and took me to the nearest hospital before I passed out. The nearest hospital isn’t very good, though. They didn’t put those stitches which would dissolve over time, instead they put the ones which had to be removed after three weeks. That fucking sucked. My foot looked like a stuffed chicken and as a result my feet are now more repulsive than ever. And the worst part was not being able to go anywhere on my own, having to always hold someone’s arm while walking and the worst of all? Not smoking. I do not think I’ll be able to do that ever again.

Then came Diwali which didn’t feel like Diwali at all. There was no family to celebrate with. I didn’t want to impose on someone else’s family because no matter how much someone else’s parents love you, being with them on Diwali seems like the mother of all impositions. So that’s that. I did shop a lot, man. I’ve been doing that a lot lately and I need to stop. But then again shopping is the only thing that makes me feel a little bit excited and I know shopping a lot is a problem but dude, I could be doing crack instead. Crack would be cheaper, though. Anyway so there’s that.

As for the rest of the year, I’m going to the NH7 Weekender, only to see one of the best bands ever, – Cigarettes after sex. Then around 28th of December I’m taking a vacation again. A long one this time. On the beach, because I’m 90 and my body doesn’t do winters very well.

Also, I don’t care if this makes anyone uncomfortable, but when I’m on that vacation, I’m hoeing out. I AM DONE WITH THIS HIATUS, I CANNOT TAKE THIS ANYMORE. I have no intentions of waiting so long to have sex again that I revirginate. I won’t have to see their faces again or face awkward encounters or feel ashamed and that’s the beauty of the Caribbean.